Play Time
by NurseLintu
Summary: Karla/Supernatural crossover I randomly wrote after watching Karla the other night. Paul/Dean SLASH warning!


_**Warnings; HEAVY full on smut/slash, violence, sex, references to domestic violence. Don't like, don't read! PLEASE! I don't want to offend, I just have to write to ease my head! When something is in there I simply HAVE to get it out.**_

_**I watched Karla a few weeks ago, and it's been stuck in my head, and it frightened me how easy I found this to write, especially the parts about Karla, and how easily I can relate to Karla. This only came about in reference to the movie and the TV show; not inspired by the real life Karla and Paul; I simply wrote this because I find it hard to violate our innocent little Cas, and Misha plays both characters, so I couldn't resist unleashing my more X rated side on characters I felt comfortable writing filth about [=**_

_**If Karla messed with your head the way it messed with mine, I don't recommend reading this, and I delve a bit in to Karla's psyche and dance around the edge of Paul's. Super scared about putting this up, but put everything aside and imagine the Misha/Jensen yumminess of it ^-^**_

_**You have been warned [= I shall put up a more tame Dean/Cas AU one up soon, but I'm still not quite happy with it, and I am halfway through. So if more gentle fluff/smut is your style that'd be more your sign of tea [=**_

_**For those brave enough... Enjoy ^-^**_

"Hey babe," Paul kissed Karla gently. "I got something for you, Kar,"

"What do you mean, baby?" Karla forced a smile as Paul took her by her wrist, and willed herself not to flinch, not to pull away from him. She was more than happy when he let go of her, but in the same instant she wanted him back, wanted him touching her. She wanted him all over her, like they used to be. Before Tammy, before the other girls. Before all the shit started going down. Karla wasn't stupid. She tried to convince herself; it was the only way she kept going, but she knew he'd never change. She held back another flinch as Paul stopped suddenly outside their bedroom door, that oh-so-sexy but oh-so-sadistic smile on his face, he bit his bottom lip as he opened the door slightly. "Turn around, baby,"

Karla shuddered inwardly, dreading whatever the _fuck _Paul had in store for her now. But being the ever perfect wife, she obeyed, her mind racing through possibilities; another puppy, maybe a bed covered in rose petals, the drapes closed and candles set around the room, even their bags packed, ready to set off on holiday. She knew it would be none of the above, and her mind began to spin, making her feel dizzy, but she didn't dare fall down or so much as stumble, because she knew it would piss Paul off. He'd call her a stupidfuckingbitch and lamp her one right across the face. Again. And probably more than just the one. She almost missed the days when it was just the one. Paul lost control a lot easier these days, and it was getting worse. She'd always end up with at least one black eye and a split lip, and he'd taken to giving her a good few kicks as well now. He liked to keep her on the floor for a while, whilst he taunted her, called her names, and then he'd get up real close and he'd tell her she was _lucky _she deserved worse than what she got, but he was just too damn nice to her. She'd better keep herself in line, and do as she was fucking told, or he'd show her a real beating. Karla had started off by telling people in work that she'd fallen, or she'd been in a crash, heck, she'd even blamed the dog a couple of times. She knew no one believed her, but no one ever challenged her, and in the end they'd stopped asking. It had been a few weeks since he'd last really hurt her, hit her a few times and kicked her in the gut, but she'd learnt from that, and she'd been on her best behavior. She'd done everything she was told, and she hadn't called her parents or her friends, she had been a good girl. Not the type of good girl Paul liked, but she had been a good girl. "What is it, baby?" Karla wondered what this one would look like. He'd probably already have her topless, and he'd get that fucking camera out, and he'd tell Karla to go to her, and kiss her, and fondle her breasts. Karla wasn't even really in to women, but she loved Paul, she wanted to make him happy. And she knew better than to fuck up his movies.

"Don't open your eyes yet, Kar," Paul whispered in to her ear, then he moved his hands from over her eyes, and dimmed the lights. "You're gonna love this, baby. I did this for you,"

Karla's heart sank again as she heard the all too familiar sound of the camera being started up. It was another one. Another poor fucking girl, that Paul would make her fuck, and he'd make her watch as he fucked her, and then he'd kill her. Karla felt something pass through her, almost like guilt, but it was as if it was shrouded in a thick blanket of nothing. Karla cared, she really did, she never wanted those poor girls to get hurt, least of all her baby sister, but there was nothing left any more. Paul had seen to that. The physical abuse had been the least damaging to Karla. It was the mind fucks he pulled on her. He told her she was ugly, she was useless, _she _fucking killed those girls, it was _her _fault, and although she knew it wasn't her directly, she did feel responsible. He was actually making her feel like it was her fault. He'd scream at her, tell her if she wasn't such a stupid whore, he'd be happy with her, and he wouldn't need to get what he wanted from elsewhere, deep down she knew there was no true logic behind what he was saying; it's just what guys like him are like. They can only think about themselves and what they want, they don't care who they hurt whilst they get it, and God forbid should someone get in their way. If their stupid bitch was the one to get in their way – that is to say if she so much as sighed at the wrong time, or hesitated when Paul told her to take off her clothes and straddle the girl he had tied up, he'd teach her a lesson. He'd teach her to be so ungrateful. He did this for _her._ And then he'd bend her over and he'd tell her this is what happens to bad girls, who don't do as they're fucking told, as their King tells them. _You do what I say, Kar. You do what I say, or you fucking pay the price for being a bad little slut._ She just stood by like some kind of soulless monster and _watched _as Paul choked the life out of those girls. She was as bad as him. But she had nothing left. She was there, what was left of her was there, the last little bit than Paul hadn't battered physically and emotionally out of her and she was stuck. Stuck in this Hellish loop. But she was still so in love with him, he was just so _damn beautiful _and one look from those eyes, with a true gentle smile, the kind he used to give her when she was 18, like she was the best person in the world, like she was the only person. And Karla let herself believe the Paul she had met was still in there, and he still loved her. He managed to time it perfectly with when she had made _the _decision, to call her parents and get them to come and collect her, and take her to one of her cousin's apartments. He'd give her that smile, and he'd hold her tight, and she'd melt in to him, and he'd tell her he loved her, only her, they were meant to be, _forever._ He was sorry for being mean; he didn't want to hurt her, he just got angry, and he got scared of losing her, and he just lost control, and she'd be stuck again. Stuck with _him._

"Hey, you can open your eyes now, Kar. Look what I got for you," Paul let out a gasp of laughter as he bounded like a puppy across the room and sat on the bed. "Well, I wouldn't mind a go, too, if you don't mind, baby?" He grinned up at Karla like a child showing his parents his Jackson Pollockesque finger painting. "What do you think, baby? Do you like him?"

Karla's jaw dropped, and she stumbled for words. "_Paul?" _ Karla studied the two men laying on the bed; one bound and gagged, and the other, her husband, laying behind him, running his fingers across the other man's bare chest.

"I fancied a change," Paul peered at the brunette man next to him and grinned. "And I just couldn't _resist,"_

Karla was still dumbfounded, her eyes taking in her fucking beautiful husband, and the equally beautiful man laying next to him. The other man was staring at Karla, and it made her feel uneasy. He didn't look afraid, or even angry, and that frightened Karla more than anything. "What's his name, baby?" Karla's eyes trailed down the man's body, and she couldn't deny that he was other worldly attractive. He had well defined muscles, and was maybe a shade lighter than Paul. Just a shade.

Paul was grinning at Karla. "Dean. Dean Winchester." He carded his fingers through Dean's hair, and looked back up at Karla. "It's only fair baby. Come here."

Karla obeyed, because that's what she did. She didn't ask questions, she didn't even hesitate, because Paul would make her regret it if she did. She knelt down on the bed, and Paul took her hand and traced it down Dean's body, leaving it to rest on his belt buckle. Karla swallowed nervously, her mouth becoming dry. She _wanted _to panic. She _wanted _to run. She wanted to take the closest heavy thing, clout Paul around the head with it and run out in to the night, shouting and screaming for help, but she knew she wouldn't stand a chance. He was stronger and faster than her, and he made a point of reminding her. He'd have her on the floor and he'd kick some more sense in to her before she'd managed to so much as reach for anything. She knew that. And she just didn't have the energy, the _will _any more. Paul's voice startled her, but she had trained herself not to jump. She blinked, but she wouldn't jump. That would piss Paul off.

"Go on," Paul reached out to Karla and ran his hand over her breasts. "Take off your night dress, Kar, he _likes_ boobs."

Karla obeyed. She was a good little soldier.

"Take off his pants, baby. I wanna watch you make him hard,"

Karla winced at Paul's words, but she didn't speak a word. She did as she was told, then she sat Dean up.

"Are you gonna stay quiet?" Paul hissed in to Dean's ear, yanking his head back violently with the belt he had fashioned in to a gag.

Dean nodded mutely, and stayed perfectly still as his leg restraints and gag were removed.

Paul moved behind Dean, up on his knees, and he slowly and deliberately brought a blade round in front of Dean, then pressed it to his throat. "You make so much as a noise,"

Dean nodded again.

Karla looked away, to the end of the bed and breathed deeply. She avoided eye contact with Dean. It was easier to detach herself that way. She could pretend like it wasn't really happening, like her mind was playing tricks on her, like it was all some horrible dream. It was when she looked them in the eye that it hit home. She knew what she was doing anyway, but when she looked them in the eye, the sheer reality of what she was doing was almost crippling, and sometimes it would take her breath away, and that made Paul mad.

"Kiss him,"

Karla obeyed.

"Yeah, baby, that's good. Go on, sit on his lap, baby,"

Karla obeyed. She kissed Dean for a moment longer, then Paul pulled her in to a kiss with him.

Paul had that distant look in his eyes that he got when he was doing his _thing_. He pressed himself up against, Dean, pointing the camera down as he ran his hand down the other man's front. "Fuck. _Fuck._" Paul panted, and he smiled at Karla. "I want him, Kar, I _want _him. Can I have him?"

Karla nodded stiffly. "Anything you want, baby. I just want you to be happy." Paul kissed her, and Karla moved back, standing up again, and holding the camera that Paul pushed in to her hands.

"Are you filming, baby? I want you to film this." Paul smiled at Karla, who nodded and feigned a smile.

Paul turned back to Dean, and looked him in the eyes. Dean returned the gaze, without faltering. Paul liked it. He really fucking liked it. Sure he loved the girls sobbing and begging for mercy, but he liked this. It felt like a challenge to him. He wanted to break this man. Paul ran the knife down Dean's cheek as he knelt with his legs either side of Dean's. "I'm your King, Dean."

Dean smirked.

Paul fought back the urge to belt that smirk right off his face. He knew that wouldn't get him anywhere. It might make him feel a bit better, but chances are this guy could fight back, and right now, Dean was right where he wanted him. He might have slipped a little something in his drink at that bar. Just maybe, and he could tell by Dean's glassy eyes it still hadn't worn off. But Paul didn't want him out of it, not for this. He'd given him enough to knock him out briefly, just long enough to pull over the car on the way home and restrain the slightly larger man and drag him in to the house, by which time he was coming around, and half shuffled half stumbled in to the house. Paul kissed the other man softly on the lips, surprised to find Dean kissing him back. He smirked in to the kiss as he realized he was _definitely _going to have fun with this one. "Lock the door, baby. And the windows. I don't want this one getting away."

Dean smiled back up at Paul, and Paul held the knife to his throat. "Not that he would fucking _dare _try anything?"

"Wanna bet?" Dean finally piped up gruffly.

Before he knew what he was doing, Paul hit him. He felt that calming sensation he got at the strike, then steadied his breathing and moved the knife down to Dean's wrist ties. "I think we're going to have some real fun," The second he cut the restraints, Dean had Paul pinned against the wall, his own knife to his throat, his breath hot against Paul's cheek.

Paul grinned at Dean and tutted, shaking his head. In another swift movement, Paul had Dean pinned against the wall, his face pressed against the wall and his arm twisted behind his back. The knife clattered to the floor, and both men tensed, ready to grab for it. Paul pressed himself against Dean, and turned the other man to face him. He had that sadistic smile on his face again, but he wasn't done yet. He kissed Dean again, pushing their bodies against one another, and slipping a thigh in between Dean's legs. He dragged his thigh up and down, and allowed his hand to wanders as they kissed, down from Dean's neck, and continue down to the waistband of his boxers. Paul pulled back and chewed his lip. "That's it, Dean. I'm your _King_,"

Dean grunted with the last word as Paul clasped a hand firmly around his manhood.

Paul rubbed his own erection against Dean's teasingly, and he closed his eyes, lost in ecstasy for a moment. Apparently Dean noticed this, and took it as an opportunity to attack again, throwing Paul to the ground managing to hit his head on the end of the bed.

Paul cried out in a mixture of pain, shock and arousal. "Fuck!"

Dean punched Paul in the face, and grabbed his shirt, and pulled him up so roughly that the shirt tore. He slammed Paul's head in to the floor a couple of times, but Paul quickly gathered himself back together and pushed Dean off him. Dean ran to the door, turned the lock, then slammed head first in to the door.

"You can't get away from me, Dean," Paul growled in to his ear. "And you don't fucking want to," He rocked his hips in to Dean's ass, and grinned as he felt Dean shudder. He slipped his hands round Dean's waist, over his boxers and stroked his fingers delicately up and down the length of Dean's now semi erect cock, and he bit in to Dean's shoulder. "That's it, up you get boy. Stand up for your King."

"_Fuck..." _Dean finally whispered.

"Yeah," Paul continued with the tickling, and pressed his own aroused manhood in to Dean's ass. "You wanna?"

Dean shook his head.

Paul slipped his hand inside Dean's boxers and began gently stroking up and down the shaft of his penis. He turned Dean to face him, and he kissed him again, not closing his eyes, not losing Dean's gaze. He grabbed Dean's hand and held it around his own cock. "Just touch it, fuck, yeah."

Dean began to grope, and feel, and rub and _squeeze_, and he started to pump, then just as Paul's breathing rate began to increase, he stopped.

Paul's eyes snapped open as he found himself literally in mid air, before he hit the bed. Dean was on him in a second, dragging him up on to the bed by his torn shirt, straddling his waist, punching him, and then in a split second, Dean was kissing him. Their teeth smashed together, and they panted each other's names, Paul cried out as Dean's lips closed around his cock, and he circled his thumb and forefinger and used both to stimulate and again he stopped just short. "Fuck!" Paul yelled as he grabbed Dean, and he pulled them both up on to their knees, and they kissed again, deep, tongues dancing together, then pushing deep in to each other's mouths, teeth drawing blood on lips, and they pulled apart for breath, both with bruised and swollen lips, and at last they smiled at one another, and Paul bounced around behind Dean, and he pulled Dean's boxers down, and he slipped his own manhood out of the hole in the front of his boxers, and he bit across Dean's back, enjoying the gasps and arching of the other man's back. "You wanna fuck yet, Dean?" Paul pressed himself against Dean, again, holding his cock and tracing it around Dean's ass. He felt Dean's back arch again, and his ass push out towards him, and he grinned.

"_Fuck me,_" Dean breathed.

Paul more than willingly slipped inside Dean, both of them whimpering at the sensation. Dean leaned down and held on to the top of the bed, and Paul held on to Dean's hips as he gently at first slid himself in and out of Dean, then he picked up the pace. "Sit up,"

Dean straightened up, and allowed Paul to slide him closer to the wall. Paul put his hands either side of Dean and he pushed himself deep in to Dean, earning a groan from both men, and he kept up a steady, but perfectly rhythmic pace, and he felt his chest begin to burn, his breath began to get sharper, and he grasped on to Dean's cock. "Fuck, yeah."

"Fuck me."

Paul pumped Dean's cock in time with their movements, and he heard Dean's breath shorten. "Oh fuck, fuck, oh fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!" Paul felt himself climax inside Dean, and he continued with his movements as Dean groaned, and he felt a warm, sticky substance on his hand. Both men panted and collapsed on the bed, and Paul moaned as he felt a little more come exit him and present itself on Dean. Dean's come was painted across the pillows and up the wall, but at that very moment in time, neither man cared.

Paul grinned again. "That was fucking amazing,"

Dean smiled.

Paul looked over at his wife. "Hey, Kar. Give him ten minutes. Then it's your turn,"


End file.
